


Trauma And Tentative Trust

by EnbyLynn (orphan_account)



Category: The Book of Mormon - Ambiguous Fandom, The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Flashbacks, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Maybe a happy ending, Mormonism, No Smut, Non-Graphic Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Religious Conflict, Religious Guilt, mcpriceley
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:08:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27035446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/EnbyLynn
Summary: Kevin Price really expected better than this. His resolve cracked over and over again until he's snapped, he's trying to rebuild his own identity and process all that's happened in this past week. While he tries to cut himself off from his equally lost fellow ex missionaries, there's a certain ginger who just can't let go. He was on board with staying in the moment, but now that he's processed what that means, he refuses to leave. God, it annoys Kevin so much that this guy refuses to see the truth right in front of him. So naturally, he takes it upon himself to try and deprogram him from the Mormon church's harmful views. Just because Elder McKinley is annoying, so he wants to find out if Connor is any better. Can be read as platonic McPriceley for the most part.
Relationships: Elder "Connor" McKinley/Kevin Price
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	1. Aftermath

Kevin still felt the vague buzzing all over, his body recovering from the excitement of the last couple of hours. He’d cleaned himself up for the mission president’s arrival, but now that he’d flushed and snickered at the villager’s performance, and then dizzily urged his best friend to threaten to turn the general into a lesbian, he was a bit ruffled. 

While his body hung onto the bustling environment as Ugandans and missionaries alike mingled and chatted, he couldn’t help but feel detached from it all. For one, the sticky air was giving him the urge to loosen his collar and throw his tie into a river. Then again, his stiff uniform was the only thing hiding the evidence of the injuries he acquired in the past few days. He rubbed at the raw skin on his wrists, wishing for once that he had a suit jacket as well.

Tumbling out of his own thoughts, he glanced up to see a certain newly named prophet’s grinning face much too close to his own. He offered a weak smile in return. He knew they weren’t on the best terms, but judging by his companion’s expression, being face to face with a guy who had a knack for shooting people in the head and now being smothered in good wishes and begrudging thanks from the village people sort of mattered more. He didn’t mind, he didn’t want to talk about it anyways. 

He gave a nod of acknowledgement, but when it seemed that wouldn’t suffice, he mumbled some sort of hello. Arnold seemed fine with the lack of words, quickly filling in the almost-silence. “That was so cool! Did you see me?” he chirped, putting his hands up for emphasis. “I bet he’s never coming back. He was all like-” the prophet paused to try and imitate the general, seeming to think that he’d had a gun in his hand and aiming to shoot, when in reality, the two of them weren’t in the slightest scary, and the men had probably left more out of annoyance than anything else. “-And then I was all like-!” He put his hands out and tried out a powerful stance, almost tripping even though he was standing still. He beamed at Kevin, and like usual, he was unable to think of a suitable response. This guy was a lot, but hey, he was warming up to him. Not like he had any choice, he’d already made up an inspirational Latter Day Saints spiel and promised to do anything for him.

Arnold was gone almost as soon as he arrived, running off to brag to Nabalungi, who was more than happy to indulge. It could be good for him to have something big like this for himself, so Kevin didn’t even consider how he’d coached the prophet to deliver that final line. As soon as the general had left and he calmed his harsh breaths, he leaned down to whisper what that word actually meant, but he doubted that his explanation had been heard, let alone acknowledged. 

He made his way over to a nearby building, leaning against it and looking up. Not once had he thought on his mission he’d be here, doubting whether God existed in the sweltering heat of Africa, not wearing his temple garments, and having an awful headache from all the caffeine he’d had in the past 24 hours. It felt so long ago, and yet not far in the past enough for him to feel comfortable in his own skin. He scratched at a fresh scab on the back of his neck, knowing from how hesitant Gotswana had been that he should leave it alone. But he needed something to do with his hands, so he just had to hope that the humidness wouldn’t be too hard on his healing.

He hummed whatever annoyingly catchy church song he could think of, longing for that naive sense of comfort to wash over him. But the tune offered nothing now, if anything, making him ball his hands into fists and wish that they hadn’t convinced the Ugandans that God was this lovely fellow, so that he could join them in their ranting sessions. Now he had something to offer to the conversation, after all. 

A certain Elder McKinley noticed his frustration from a distance, and Kevin groaned slightly. He couldn’t be that easy to read after so few days. He remained stagnant despite his urge to run off, looking at the district leader like he was the one having a brooding session off to the side. The ginger offered a weak smile. They never had any time to talk, and honestly, Kevin had never wanted to. The other male’s persona irritated him immensely, him and his little turn it off motto. 

But he looked so different. He was still wearing his suit jacket, he still clutched the suitcase he had packed so certainly less than an hour ago. His hair’s natural curls peeked through, and Kevin wondered how he had been able to straighten it. He looked younger, softer, more real. In the time that Kevin was growing jealous at how someone with such frizzy hair could probably tame it better than he could his straight but oddly bouncy hair, Elder McKinley had taken their met gaze as an excuse to walk over. 

They regarded each other politely, like they were passing by in church or exchanging glances during prayer. It wasn’t very warm, but Kevin was convinced that he preferred that. He cleared his throat, speaking in a slightly raspy voice. The last liquid he’d had was coffee and also a whole lot of hours ago, so that was to be expected. “So, district leader, what’s the plan?” He shifted his position so that he leaned on the wall sideways, resting his head against it. 

Elder McKinley ran a hand through his hair, messing it up further, much to Kevin’s delight. “We’re not a district anymore, Elder Price.” His tone was flat, a bit tired. 

“We still need a leader though,” Kevin urged. “You’re the closest thing, so you’re stuck.” His words were meant to be reassuring, but they only made his fellow Mormon- ex Mormon? His own speech had confused him. No, he wasn’t a Mormon anymore. He hadn’t been for a while. His words only made his fellow ex Mormon frown. But he quickly replaced it with a much too wide smile, one that Kevin only recently began to recognize. Had he really walked around all his life with that stupid expression? No wonder everyone on the outside thought he was weird.

“Hm,” The not-district leader hummed, glancing over to him, and then over to the cluster of people nearby. “We’ll figure it out.”


	2. Brainwashed?

Connor stared into their dusty, cloudy mirror. How had he actually changed? Sure, he’d begun to not care as much about his curly hair, finding that it took too much effort to comb and wet down. And maybe he’d become a bit stronger after working all day for around 4 months now. But he still looked like the same kid who’d mumble bible verses whenever mildly inconvenienced, and then fall asleep to the thought of being embraced in a truly sinful way by his childhood best friend. He sharply inhaled, standing up straight from his hunched over position. The instinct was still to think of anything but that, and if he was good enough at it, no one would know.

Elder Price seemed to dislike that coping mechanism, shooting him a glare whenever he saw his various ways of distracting himself. It always made a pang of regret shoot up to his throat, whenever he saw that look from him. From the others, it was usually concern and pity. He was fine with that, growing up Mormon around kids who slowly stopped inviting him to sleepovers once they got a taste of how much of a downer he was made him used to it. But he had always been sheltered from the looks of genuine malice, told to look away and tune it out when a non-believer, an Apostate, tried to get into his mind.

He rubbed his eyes, wiped his hand on his shirt in an attempt to smooth out the wrinkles, and left the bathroom. He peeked around the corner at everyone else sitting around the living area. Elder Cunnngham had scampered off somewhere with Nabulungi a while ago, and everyone else seemed to be trying to figure out a traditional board game they had bought at the market. The man selling it offered no instructions, so they just tried to play it like chess. Elder Church and Elder Neeley actually played, while everyone else offered suggestions and commentary. It was their own version of a classic Mormon family evening, each of them iffy about their faith at the moment, but deciding that spending time together couldn’t possibly be dangerous.

Connor gave a weak smile as all eyes turned to him, maybe that bathroom break had been too long. He quickly headed over and sat beside everyone else on the couch, trying to figure out how the game had progressed in the time he was gone, when he spotted Elder Price sitting a bit away from the group. He hadn’t been over there before he left, right?

He tried to catch his eye to invite him back over, but he appeared to be preoccupied with thoughts. He hesitated, even as close as they had all become, he was reluctant to bother him. They had all collectively agreed to leave him alone for the most part. Chugging coffee early in the morning but often being heard fumbling around in the kitchen late at night, they were all concerned but unqualified and preoccupied enough to be helpless. The thing is, Connor didn’t care about his own problems, so he was more than willing to play therapist. 

As the sun began to set and the group dispersed, Elder Price got up and started to walk to his room with a brisk pace. Connor followed and tapped him on the shoulder, a completely normal interaction. But Elder Price recoiled, whipping around to face him. Connor quickly brought his hand back, his mouth open in a silent question. But he didn’t get to speak, as his fellow Elder was faster.

“Can I help you?” he at least attempted to sound polite, but it didn’t do anything to relax his tense shoulders, or soften the irritated look on his face. Connor cleared his throat, putting on his district leader voice.

“I noticed you were sitting away from the group, is everything alright?” He tilted his head towards the couch, offering a sit-down conversation. But Elder Price stayed in place, ignoring his question and instead tossing out his own.

“How do you not see it?” he ran a hand through his hair with a harsh laugh. “Whatever. I’m fine.” he turned to leave, but Connor grabbed his wrist loosely, making him stop right in his tracks.

“ _What_? What am I supposed to be seeing?” Connor tightened his grip ever so slightly, which made the hand jerk away and a yelp cut through the tension. Elder Price stepped towards him, getting much too close.

“ _Nothing_. You see nothing!” he threw a quick glance to the line of doors beside him, before looking back at Connor. “Okay, you enjoy that brainwashing. I’ll tell Satan you said hello.” he fled into his room, leaving the other standing there. His heart raced, because his brain still acknowledged the tone, but otherwise, he heard none of it, white noise replacing the words. Processing it would create doubts and doubts meant he was being influenced by the people around him. God, he didn’t need more therapy.

He waited. One minute, two minutes, three minutes. He wanted to be sure that he was alone and would be alone. Then he let his shoulder’s droop, brushed the hair out of his eyes, and walked into his room. His companion was sitting up in bed, sleepily rubbing his eyes. Once Connor entered, he looked over and tilted his head. He clearly expected an explanation to whatever he had managed to hear, but his roommate offered none, and silently navigated the dark room to find his bed. He laid down, shut his eyes, and exhaled.

And he prayed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! Second chapter, wowie. Stuff is picking up, so soon I'll begin to show more of my opinions in the story. Before that happens, I'm gonna make this very clear: I don't agree with Mormonism, nor many organized religions. I believe that they cause a lot of harm to members, and a concerning amount apply almost perfectly to the model used to determine whether something is a cult. But I don't wish for any harm to come to people who believe that religion helps to improve their life, you do you.


	3. Trying

Kevin managed to deflect all of Arnold’s questions all night, changing the subject, making excuses to leave, anything that’d keep the focus off of what had happened. Only when his companion’s words trailed off and faded into steady, calm breaths, did he begin to process things. 

It wasn’t his job to explain everything to Elder McKinley, would he even listen? But he felt the need to. Maybe he just wanted to play hero. No matter the reason, he was going to try. Once he was certain that Arnold was asleep, he slipped out of the room, heading around the corner to get a couple cups of coffee. After the last time he had an idea like this, he’d made the mistake of not planning. And also probably just deciding to do it in at all. But this couldn’t cause as much harm as last time, right?

He shivered despite the sticky nature of the air. Maybe confronting his feelings would be harder than turning it off after all. He shook off the thought, focusing on grabbing something to let him work through the night. 

He made his way into the living area, navigating through the darkness to try and find the kitchen, a small circle of light in the corner made it easier, and he almost didn’t question it’s placement. But they weren’t allowed to keep them burning for no reason, as they had a limited supply of lights. He held his breath, stepping closer and finding that he could just about make out a figure in the dim light.

“Oh! Elder Price.” Elder McKinley looked up, sitting criss-cross on the floor, hunched over his small, pocket sized copy of The Book of Mormon. Kevin glanced at it, and then looked at the male in front of him. He dug his fingernails into his palms, trying to release the immediate tension his body provided at the sight. He took a deep breath, and sat down in front of him.

“You’re supposed to be asleep.” he decided to say instead of anything foul. He saw the Elder’s face go from forced friendliness to confusion, so he dropped that subject. It’d be too hard to explain that he wanted to help him because he hated him. “Hm. I think we’re close enough to stop the titles though, huh?” he was testing the waters, trying to figure out just how deep he was in this thing.

Elder McKinley messed with the frayed pages of his book, shutting his eyes for a moment. And then he made eye contact, his eyes glazed over. “Even if you’re not serious about your studies, I am.” His tone wasn’t sharp, it seemed that he expected Kevin to know this already, and was more disappointed that he didn’t. Kevin almost felt bile rise in his throat, but he tried to remain calm.

“It’s not your job to lecture me on-” he began, narrowing his eyes. But he was interrupted almost as soon as he began.

“It is! I’m your district leader! So until you can leave and deal with your issues, I’m responsible for you.” His voice cracked a bit, and Kevin’s expression softened. He desperately wanted to believe his own words, and he felt bad taking that away. But it wasn’t healthy, surely he’d be happier being able to find comfort in other things.

Kevin wordlessly got up and headed towards the kitchen. He began to boil water and make a small amount of coffee in the janky coffee pot he had saved up to buy at the market. No more long walks in the dark to find that coffee vendor. He used the rest of the hot water to make a cup of herbal tea for Elder McKinley. A lot of debating and convincing that only traditional teas counted later, they had some stocked up for sickness and whenever someone needed to feel vaguely rebellious.

He walked back over minutes later, cups in hand. He sat back down and handed the cup of herbal tea over. Sitting a bit closer than before, he was able to see his blue eyes unusually bloodshot. An effect of crying or lack of sleep, he knew each option very well.

Elder McKinley accepted the tea and occasionally sipped on it, but mostly just moved it around in a circular motion, staring down at it. He finally made eye contact when his cup was half full, and Kevin’s was long empty.

“Your name is Kevin,” he stated softly. “You and Elder Cun- eh, Arnold? You and Arnold aren’t very quiet.” He tried to smile, tilting his head slightly.

Kevin managed a chuckle, setting his cup down. “That’s me.” he replied with a shrug, waiting for him to go on. But he was silent for a bit, shaking his head. 

“If..if you dislike your title, that’s fine. I’m not supposed to judge.” he continued at last. “You can call me Connor. I suppose we need to adjust anyway because of circumstance.” He sighed faintly, closing his book. But he kept it close, looking into the flickering flame of the candle.

Kevin repeated the name under his breath, looking at him in wonder. He then cleared his throat, nodding. “I appreciate that. I know this can’t be easy, but it won’t be any easier if you get stuck in old ways.” As soon as he said it, he winced. Phrasing isn’t easy when emotions are involved.

Connor inhaled, clearly wanting to say something. But he stayed silent, nodding. Kevin found himself grateful for the silence. This way, he could pretend he wasn’t horrible at this thing. Silence could do no harm.

Then he stood up, bringing his cup to the sink, and disappearing into the dark hallway leading to the bedrooms. Kevin was left by the candle, a bit dazed. Did he still need to make that plan?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WoW, softness. No, it's not gonna last. I tried the whole meeting in the night cliche, just a little bit different. Anyways, I appreciate all comments and kudos! Don't expect much though, then I can impress you with the bare minimum


	4. Liar

Connor sat silently beside Arnold as he again explained the latest story for their improvised version of bible stories. Lovingly called The Book of Arnold, it started out as a joke. But as it progressed more and more and they started talking about turning the messily bound stack of notebook paper into an actual book, they realized how much it was actually doing to help. It taught the decent values of Mormonism, and left out the ones that everyone told him were actually really bad, but if he shut his eyes they didn’t exist or matter day to day. He really didn’t mind, couldn’t bring himself to care about the stuff cut out or added in. And sometimes that scared him.

Every now and again he’d start doubting. When he was younger, it was easy to push stuff away and just believe whatever he was told. Even as he got a bit older, he hardly interacted with anyone who didn’t share the same views. But when he moved out of his cozy private school and to the much closer public school, it was all so odd. He missed his seminary classes, and didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way that the boys said words that made him flush on their behalf. 

In the world, but not of it. He managed to cut off worldly friends and tell his bishop that the desires were gone. Because if he couldn’t have any of that, he could at least have the church. He could work hard, he could be praised for the verses he memorized instead of how he mirrored the dance routine he saw the girls preparing in the gym when he left to walk home from school. So he made it to his mission, and then everything went wrong. 

He second guessed himself in a new way. So instead of facing it, he threw himself head first into studies. 

Connor waited for Arnold to finish his spiel, seeing as he turned back towards him, waiting for some sort of opinion. But he couldn’t think right now, so he jumped up and blurted out the first thing he could think of to just get out.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I told Elder Price that I’d help him teach the kids today-!” He pointed to the clock that hadn’t been working properly since last Wednesday. But Arnold took no notice, glancing down at his papers and then back at him. Why did he use the title? Ack.

“Oh! Yeah, get over there. I should probably go over to Naba’s to get this typed anyways.” He waved Connor away without a second glance. And despite the rising guilt in his chest, he couldn’t help his relief at an escape. So he murmured an apology to whatever or whoever cared, and left. 

He walked for a while, trying to remember where Kevin would usually teach the kids. Truth be told, he didn’t know much about what everyone did during the day. He was always in his own little word. Maybe he should try harder with that whole district leader thing.

Connor finally found him standing in front of the kids, all silent and engaged on what he was saying. Still at a bit of a distance, he scoffed gently. Of course he’d want to be near the kids, if you were somewhat decent, they’d idolize you. As he walked closer, he noticed that Kevin wasn’t holding any sort of paper, nothing to read off of. Okay, so he was deviating from The Book of Arnold too. He tilted his head as he was finally able to make out words. They didn’t sound like lessons of any sort.

He leaned against a nearby building, listening in just out of sight as he improvised a classic fairytale, none of the kids caring about how horribly cliche and definitely stolen it was. It was wrapped up with the signature Disney ending, and the kids steadily dispersed once the sun dipped low in the sky.

Only when Kevin had said his goodbyes and took a couple steps to the edge of the field, did he notice Connor. He looked shocked for a brief moment, then puzzled as he changed direction to go over and stand by him.

“How long have you been standing there?” He questioned, folding his arms against his chest. Connor, not understanding why this was a matter to be defensive on, shrugged slightly.

“Not long. But hey, I wouldn’t have thought you’d be a fan of cheesy stuff like that.” He mused, standing up straight and moving to stand beside him. Facing the way Kevin had originally started in, he bumped their shoulders together. “Come on, let’s head back.”

Kevin took on a funny expression, but seemed to quickly move past whatever on his mind, huffing. “First of all, I don’t know what that means, but I think it’s an insult,” he started walking, facing forward pointedly. “Second of all, why were you watching me? You could’ve at least helped.”

He shrugged, matching his pace with slight struggle. “I..got bored?” He spoke in an unsure manner, giving the male beside him a quick glance before staring at the ground. He heard terribly stifled snickers as soon as he forced the words out. He walked faster, but Kevin easily caught back up.

“Wait, weren’t you supposed to help Arnold figure out more stories?” His silence was taken as an excuse for him to go on. “Breaking rules now, huh? I’m so proud.”

Connor inhaled sharply, jerking his head up to look at him. “I wasn’t-” His feet came to a stop, and he looked in front of him to see the missionary hut in front of him. Take away his muscle memory and he would’ve tumbled face first onto the porch.. Pretending he didn’t almost just trip over his own feet, he walked up to the front door and headed in.

He was already agitated by Kevin’s teasing, but he froze as a nearby bedroom door opened, out stepping Arnold with Nabalungi in tow. He scurried over, grinning proudly. “While you two were babysitting, Naba and I got a bunch more stories typed out. Connor, if you don’t have to go help out Kevin next time, you should totally read these new ones!” He chirped, grabbing her hand and leading her to the door. “Anyways, I was just walking her home, I don’t want her dad to kill me!” 

As usual, he didn’t bother reading the room and left. There was a pause as they both marveled at the interaction, and then Kevin seemed to realize something, turning to Connor and pointing at him accusingly. “You lied!” his words contained no anger, just pure delight.

But Connor felt the same guilt he would as if he were being scolded. But he wasn’t supposed to get stuck in old ways, right? So he tried to ignore his urge to ask to be forgiven. This couldn’t possibly be as bad as how he usually turned it off. He was on the right path now.

Disoriented due to his puzzling thoughts, he realized that Kevin was staring at him, awaiting some verbal response. With something between a cough and a laugh straining it’s way out of his throat, he walked into the kitchen, walking up to where his mission companion was and grabbing onto his arm. Did he want to talk about his feelings? No, but he also didn’t want to look even more foolish to Kevin.


	5. Change

There had been some sort of change. Sure, Connor didn’t quite have the same insistent distaste for his upbringing as the others began to develop, but Kevin could tell he was at least trying. Without a wakeup call like seeing a guy get shot in the head or some other unspeakable events, it could be hard to see things from an outside perspective. But that didn’t make any of it less frustrating. The guy could smile a bit at a crude joke, and then become frazzled at the suggestion of sending someone out to buy normal clothes for everyone. 

Kevin fanned half-heartedly at his face, steadily growing used to the high temperatures. He tried not to think about what the humidity was doing to his hair. Windows in the missionary hut had to be closed at all times, so instead of staying in there long enough to be assigned to extra chores, he opted to sit under a tree to try and shield himself from the sun. 

He shut his eyes, only realizing how tired he was once he stopped moving around. Coffee could only do so much, after all. He might’ve dozed off, but all he knew that he was startled back to consciousness by a nudge and scuffling of brittle grass. His eyes were back open in an instant, and he rubbed at them until he saw Connor crouching in front of him with a fond expression. 

“Well good morning, sleepyhead.” He hummed. Kevin swiped the hair out of his eyes, sitting up. He waited for his brain to stop feeling fuzzy.

“Five more minutes-” He whined dramatically, rubbing at his now very stiff neck. A steep price to pay for sanity. This is why sleep isn’t worth it.

Connor shook his head with a chuckle. “I wish, but even if your attitude isn’t appreciated, I need an extra pair of hands in the kitchen.”

As much as Kevin wished to be a brat, he had an awful need to be needed and therefore immediately got to his feet. Did he almost break his neck by stumbling on one of the roots of the tree? Maybe.

Looking vaguely relieved, Connor led him to the missionary hut and then inside. Kevin didn’t ask what they were cooking in order to be picky, he was a tad too groggy to do anything other than ask for directions and murder some vegetables. Without complaint, he adjusted his hold on the knife when he was corrected. 

So it was rather peaceful, the only sound in the room being ingredients added to a big pot. Everyone usually tried to pitch in with meals, but with their limited access to food shopping, they had to get creative. It was only natural that stews would be near the end of the week, cooked in bulk and warmed back up until they could cook fresh meals again.

A whole lot of stirring later, Connor put the lid on the pot and set the heat to low. He then turned back around to Kevin and seemed to consider something for a moment.

“We’ve got a bit of time til dinner’s done. If you’re not already bored out of your mind, would you like to go on a walk with me?” He offered with a shrug. It was no secret that Connor would often go off on his own somewhere, presumably to just think. The thought that Kevin was invited to come along made him feel odd.

Kevin, poster Mormon boy, was puzzled by an expression of affection. But he nodded slowly, putting up a finger as an indication to wait as he walked over towards his shared room, peeking his head in. 

Sure enough, Arnold was sitting on the floor with Nabulungi, messing with their easily jammed stapler, papers strewn lazily around the room. It wasn’t what he expected from couples around him, to be honest. Being alone with someone of the opposite sex was so taboo that he just assumed it would be less wholesome. Connor clearly felt the same, as he never hesitated to remind them to keep the door open.

“Going out with Connor-” he started. Probably a bad idea to be so ambiguous, as his best friend bit back a knowing grin. “-Just a walk, Jesus. If we’re not back in an hour, you can take credit for dinner and serve it.”

“Mhm. Have fun on your date. Gay people are a-ok by The Book of Arnold, y’know. I bet they’ll be the ones to lead us to salvatio- can we add that?” He turned his head back to Nabulungi with a gasp.

Extremely done with this 19 year old child, he rolled his eyes and stood up from where he leaned against the doorframe, returning to Connor. He prayed that the conversation hadn’t been heard, but his giddy expression told otherwise. He attempted to regain his composure, but Connor was making that really hard. So with a quiet grumble, he grabbed onto his hand and led him out the door. Efficiency and safety reasons, of course.


	6. Picture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is mostly filler, bUt it's a way for me to set up for the next chapter. I promise stuff will start happening again soon.

Connor squinted at the photo in the dim lighting, focusing on the elated face of his younger self. It was some birthday, judging by the blurry guests in the background. He grinned at the camera, hands tugging at the fabric of the nice shirt he’d agreed to wear to the party. He could almost hear his mother’s voice, soft and sweet as she coaxed him into it with the promise of the biggest slice of red velvet cake. 

He moved it away from his eyes, blinking them quickly to try and be rid of the stinging. He hugged it to his chest instead, breathing a hefty sigh. 

Reminiscing hurt. A lot. He was almost certain that he used to be fine, that being a good Mormon boy used to be easy. He didn’t think the church asked too much from him. 

But he also only recently learned what brainwashing was, hesitantly whispered by Kevin when he expressed how odd it was for this all to only be a problem now. 

He had refused the response then, changing the subject to something he could discuss without accidentally thinking something worse. But as much as he didn’t want to have to admit it, it made sense. It made sense for all those breathing exercises and distractions and _turn it off_ lessons to be a way to manipulate him. 

Kevin never had a problem with using harsh words. He’d cuss, of course, but that’s not the point. He’d say that it was all some weird cult, that he preferred Disney’s fairy tales to The Book of Mormon’s. 

And sometimes, that small voice in the back of Connor’s head still tried to make him tune it out and think of something else. He wasn’t supposed to entertain sinful thinking, validify it enough to plant doubts in his mind. If people started to think for themselves, it was all over.

He wiped at the tears dribbling down to soak into his thin bedsheets, shivering and sitting up. Even with the whole trying to accept his emotions, he didn’t want to cry over something so silly. He was stronger than that. 

He sat up and put the small picture back on the top of his dresser, standing and moving towards the door. It was probably too much to hope for nobody to be around to notice him, but staying stuck in his room made him antsy.

To avoid the gamble of whether or not his conscience wanted to give him a break, he hadn’t slept yet. Peeking out of his doorway, he could see early morning shining light orange streaks on the floor. So if someone was awake as well, maybe they wouldn’t question him. 

Waking up early was a habit he could never shake, no matter how little sleep he got. So it was normal for him to be the first and only one awake for a while. 

He made his way to the kitchen and started to boil a pot of water. Steadily, drinking tea became how he started his days. After little sleep or God forbid, a hell dream, it comforted him.

He put the tea bag in a cup and poured water over it. Waiting for it to steep, he leaned over the sink to look out the window. His shoulders relaxed a bit, and he moved his hands onto the windowsill to lean forward more. Watching the sunrise was one advantage of being up so early, he supposed. 

Leaning a bit too far, he nudged his cup a bit and startled himself. As much as he knew that no one would downright shame him for being awake, he wasn’t in the right headspace to talk to people. Any distant noise and he’d stiffen. So the screeching sound of the unpainted bottom of the cup probably scratching the counter? His brain processed that as someone coming. It didn’t make sense, but hey, neither does fight or flight in the modern world.

Once he realized he was being ridiculous and made sure he didn’t spill anything, he tossed the tea bag into the garbage and took a sip. A bad idea, but he loves those. That’s why he stayed here to hang around Kevin. As he was silently crying and trying not to spit out the burning liquid, someone decided to join him, shuffling slowly like they had suddenly been woken up. 

“Connor?” His mission companion stifled a yawn, blinking to try and wake himself up. “What’re you doing?” He leaned against the entryway to the kitchen. Connor quickly swallowed his sip of tea, wincing slightly at how it left his throat feeling.

“Good morning to you too.” He mumbled, setting his cup down on the counter behind him like he was trying to hide it. Which was stupid, and he knew that. He had probably already seen it, and why should he be ashamed of it? He shouldn’t be. But he still was.

Chris paused, standing up straight and leaning towards his friend a bit, like he was sharing a secret from multiple feet away. “Is everything okay?” He questioned in a soft tone. And Connor almost laughed. 

He’d try his best to hide his Hell dreams, to sniffle from under way too many layers or leave the room as soon as he woke up. But it failed most of the time, and he’d end up horribly embarrassed to be shaking and hiccuping while he was shushed and hugged. So of course, if Connor’s awake you gotta ask whether he’s still got the V.I.P passes to Hell. Instead of being rude about it though, he smiled weakly and nodded. 

Chris returned the gesture, glancing behind him. Again, he hid a yawn behind his hand. “Okay, that’s uh, good. Come get me when the sun’s actually up?” He quipped. Relieved to stray away from the topic at hand, Connor laughed softly, “Yeah, alright.” He waved for a moment as his friend walked away, before letting his arm fall back to his side.

He stood there for a while longer, drinking his cup of tea and watching the sunrise. After he’d washed his dish and set it on the counter, he assumed some time had passed. So he slipped back into his room, stepping around anything left on the floor. 

It looked like everyone had just arrived all over again, bags half packed from when they’d thought they were flying back home. Sitting back down on his bed and grabbing the photo he’d left on his dresser, he looked at it for a moment. He couldn’t rip most of the reminders from his home up, any pictures laminated by his own request. 

So he slipped it back into his luggage instead. It was the thought that counted, right? Or maybe any group he found himself in would look down on members who didn’t do enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is mostly filler, bUt it's a way for me to set up for the next chapter. I promise stuff will start happening again soon


	7. A Way Out

Kevin coughed into his hand, grimacing. He preferred coffee at this time of night, but unfortunately for him, drinking only the hot drink exclusively at a temperature warm enough to scorch his throat might not help whatever sickness plagued him right now. So he was stuck with lukewarm herbal tea, held close enough to steal it’s remaining warmth, but still full. Arnold had used the excuse of not getting sick to go off with Naba, and even with his pounding headache, he missed the slightly too loud ramblings of his best friend, whisper-screamed from his bed or right in his face as they huddled under a blanket draped over the space in between their beds. 

He set the cup on his bedside table, forcing himself into a sitting position. He was never really sick as a kid, which probably explained why his limbs felt like jello and his lungs ached from what could just be a cold. He ignored the urge to try and sleep again, knowing that giving his thoughts free rein never ended well. He stumbled into the living room, not even surprised anymore to see Connor huddled on the couch, staring blankly at a book like he didn’t know what to do with it. He wanted to say some smooth line, or perhaps confess his undying love, but inhaling to speak made him start coughing. Connor snapped his head up, looking puzzled, and then a bit irritated. 

“Kevin, you’re supposed to be in bed!” He sighed, shaking his head like a stern mother. But Kevin, delirious with sickness and the remnants of his restless sleep, stepped closer. 

“Sleep is for the weak, let’s go somewhere,” Kevin put his hands on Connor’s shoulders, shaking him gently. Connor quietly removed his hands, setting them back by his sides. He furrowed his eyebrows.

“I don’t know why you’d want to be out there at night. It’s cold, and you’re sick,” His voice was uncertain, and yeah, he was being reasonable. But if Kevin wasn’t capable of conscious thought, why wouldn’t he want to go and do something that he’d otherwise panic doing?

Kevin waved his hand vaguely. “It’ll be light out soon,” He reasoned with a weak smile. Connor closed his book, setting it beside him. 

“Will you go back to sleep if we go outside for five minutes?” He questioned, and Kevin would’ve taken note of his glassy eyes if he was in the right mind to fix it. So without giving Connor the chance to add any more restrictions, he walked over to the door. A flashlight flickered on and then off from behind him, and then a hand was in his. Warm, a welcome contrast to the biting cold as the front door inched open. He was wearing a sweatshirt, the only one he was allowed to bring since it was Africa and also horribly worldly of him to request. But he was also supposed to be on his mission for two winters, so he couldn’t just go without. 

He’d been told at some point either a few hours ago or many years ago that he had a fever, but he’d been shivering all day and was definitely vibrating right now, so that felt like a betrayal. His knees buckled, so he played it off by sitting on the porch. He faintly heard a muffled chuckle, and then the wood creaked as Connor sat beside him. He felt a little patronized, and obviously that wasn’t okay. 

“I feel fine, y’know,” He insisted unnecessarily, his voice crackling like he was 60 years old and had smoked a lot in the prime years of his life. But Connor was looking at him so fondly so he couldn’t bring himself to care, and oh god, did he actually have that fever? 

Connor only hummed in response, moving closer to him. While usually Kevin had a love of personal space, he was already doing another thing that made him feel like dying, and this person he had a weird relationship with was  _ warm. _ He scooted closer until they were almost cuddling but ohoho, that requires acknowledging feelings. Check back in a few chapters. 

Being by themselves in the dark? You know what’s coming.

“They lied to us,” Connor breathed, shaking his head. Why was he upset again?

“Yeah,”

“You told me they did,”

Kevin shut his eyes. “You’re right?”

“Aren’t you mad?” For someone upset about his reaction, Connor didn’t sound furious himself. 

“I was mad for the entire first week I was here, if you hadn’t noticed,” He cracked a smile. “I’m okay now. I’ve grieved. And if you learn from this in order to accept that I’m always right, you can work towards that too.” Kevin’s voice was soft, a little teasing near the end, but he still meant all of it. He wanted to help Connor make it out, and yes, he  _ is  _ always right. He was pretty sure that they had let go of each other when they sat down, but somehow, they were holding hands again.

Connor sniffled, looking down. But he smiled a bit. “Okay, all powerful Kevin Price, I see that all of this can’t break your pride. How do I make it out?” 

“You have to say fuck.”

He pulled his hand away, hiding his grin with a facepalm. “I’m being exploited for your own enjoyment!” He shook his head, but he looked like he was considering it.

“No, no! It’s a part of the initiation. You just cuss at Heavenly Father and boom, you’re a filthy apostate.” It was slightly true. Screaming at the sky was the only acceptable therapy.

Connor narrowed his eyes, and then, like it took physical effort, he mumbled an unenthusiastic, “Fuck you,”

“Goo- hey! To God, not me.” Kevin nudged him, huffing.

“Whoops, easy mistake.” He nudged him back. And Kevin was more than willing to stay here for a while longer, but his hands were getting numb. When he shoved them into his pockets to try and prolong this, Connor spoke up again. “Ah, the 5 minutes is probably up.” He hummed, quickly standing up and extending a hand to help Kevin up as well.

Kevin grudgingly accepted it, grabbing the flashlight that was definitely not forgotten in this scene. “Can we do this more often?” He asked hopefully, tired of bonding and then having to forget it the next day.

Connor opened the front door again, slipping inside and waiting for Kevin to do the same, shutting it quickly in order to conserve heat. “Sure? If you get better we could even go on a walk next time,” He clearly thought that was a bit too accepting, because he added, “Not every night though, you need sleep.” 

Kevin snorted, setting the flashlight on the counter. “Okay, mom.”

“I’ll say it again!”

...

  
“I’m  _ terrified,”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy oh boy, communication. Also, this is set during the same night of the last chapter, because that one was just filler and stuffs. It's been a while, I have no excuse


End file.
